


Distractions

by RogueLioness



Series: Fuckuary 2021 [6]
Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, NSFW, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:53:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29846634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueLioness/pseuds/RogueLioness
Summary: Day 6: Gwen Porter x Benjamin FoxTable sex
Relationships: Detective/Original Female Character, Male detective/Original Female Character
Series: Fuckuary 2021 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2194248
Kudos: 1





	Distractions

**Author's Note:**

> [Detective Benjamin Fox belongs to @ma-sulevin]

Gwen takes a step away from the canvas and stares at it with a critical eye. The background needs a touch more blue, she decides; Wayhaven’s skies are wonderfully cobalt, and the color she’s used is decidedly not. Groaning, she dunks the paint-soaked brush into the mug of water nearby. What in the world had possessed her to take the commission from the mayor?

Oh, right. No one turned down the mayor. Not even the captain’s daughter, apparently. She hadn’t even been offered a chance to refuse, the absolute prick.

Sighing, she wiped her stained hands on her shirt, smearing green and red onto the grey cloth, before wiping at her cheek with the back of a hand. “This is terrible,” she sighs one last look at the painting, then deliberately turns and makes her way to the kitchen. She fills her little green kettle with water before placing it on the stove and returning to the space in her living room that she’s turned into a makeshift studio. She searches through the many tubes of acrylic paint scattered around her little workbench - there’s phthalo blue, ultramarine blue, that weird sky blue that she never should have bought- but she can’t find the cobalt blue. Sighing, she turns her attention to the large basket on the ground, digging through her supplies to search for the shade she needs. She barely pays attention to the now-familiar _click_ of the door unlocking, or the heavy stomp of Benji’s boots as he walks in through the door.

“Gwen?” he calls out, his warm, deep voice filling the apartment.

“In here!” She grunts with annoyance, frustrated at not being able to find what she wants - where could it have gone, dammit! It was right here, she was sure she’d seen it-

She starts when she feels his large hands settling on her hips, a squeak falling from her unbidden. Benji’s hands slide down to the hem of her shirt - well, Benji’s really, and it hits her mid-thigh which is why she loves it so much in this heat - and the pads of his fingers start to brush against the skin there, making her shiver. “Are you wearing my shirt?” His voice is low and husky, and he coaxes her upright so he can press his lips to the side of her neck.

Gwen’s breath rushes out of her in a soft moan. “It’s my shirt now,” she tries to turn to face him, but he holds her still. “You gave it to me at the station, remember?”

His lips curve against her shoulder, lips warm against her skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. She rises on her toes so he won’t have to bend so low, knowing he’ll keep her steady - he always does. “I _lent_ it to you,” he corrects with a quiet chuckle, “‘cause I spilled coffee on your t-shirt.”

“I couldn’t get the stain out,” her reply is breathless, her mind too distracted by the skin-to-skin contact as his fingers are slowly creeping up her legs, “so we’ll call it even?”

“No shorts?” he murmurs into her ear.

She shakes her head. “Too hot.” She presses her hips back against him, biting a lip to find him half-hard in his jeans.

“What about-” he makes a small sound of disappointment when he encounters cloth. “Aw, you’re wearing panties.”

“I’m not a barbarian,” she huffs, turning so she can look into his eyes. Benji’s grinning down at her, that warm, gentle smile, the kind that makes her feel all safe and fuzzy inside. “Hi,” she says, feeling her cheeks flush, and she curses herself for not being able to control it, even after all the time they’ve been together.

Benji doesn’t seem to mind - if anything, his eyes brighten at the sight. He reaches out to cup her cheek. “Hey, baby.” He leans in, kisses her soft and sweet, his lips slightly chapped from his patrol. She reaches up to link her arms around his neck, eagerly responding when he coaxes her mouth open so he can taste her, moaning when he strokes her tongue with his own. “You look so fucking hot, wearing my shirt like that. Makes it real hard to keep my hands off you.” He catches her lips between his teeth, traces the shape of it with his tongue, and Gwen melts into him.

“Baby, I gotta-” she whines when he drags his mouth down her jaw. “I gotta get back to work-”

“Work?” he kisses the spot below her ear. “What work?”

She fists her hands in his shirt, her knees going shaky as he mouths at her skin. “That- that commission for- _oh, fuck!_ \- for the Mayor-”

“It can wait till tomorrow,” he murmurs, cupping a breast through the cotton of her - his - shirt, gliding a thumb over the already-hard nub. He pulls away, a look of incredulity on his face. “You’re not wearing a bra? I thought you said you weren’t a barbarian,” he smirks down at her, his thumb still stroking her nipple, and Gwen's mind struggles to make sense of what he’s saying because her brain’s too busy on the pleasure shooting through her veins. Her head falls back, her grip on his shirt tightening. “I-” she catches her lip between her teeth to catch the gasp before it spills out.

Benji catches the beaded between his fingers, pinching and tugging at it the way he knows drives her wild. “What were you saying, baby?”

“Nothing,” she looks up at him through her lashes and adds, in a quiet, breathy voice, “ _sir_.”

He groans, his hips jerking against her belly, grinding his erection against her. “Does the dining table count as a food prep surface?” He doesn’t give her time to reply, a hand on the back of her neck as he kisses her, thumb tilting her chin up to him. When she breaks away gasping, his eyes are dark and heavy with want. 

Gwen gives him a coy look. “It’s meant for eating out, isn’t it?”

Benji laughs. Hands on the back of her thighs, he lifts her up in a fluid, practiced motion, and she immediately wraps her legs around his waist. “You’re right.” He drops her lightly onto the wooden surface, then returns to kissing her as his fingers work on unbuttoning the shirt. She’s more interested in getting him out of his clothes, tugging at his jacket till he stops his inspection of her skin to pull it off, but then his hands return to stroke down her body, his blunt nails dragging down her sides till they hook into the elastic of her panties. “Take these off,” he murmurs, and she raises her hips so he can draw them down before settling back onto her elbows as he kneels, his head coming to rest between her thighs. 

He’s looking her right in the eyes as he starts to kiss his way up her legs, open mouthed kisses that have her twitching with impatience. Gwen squeaks when he nips the inside of her thigh, then whimpers when he soothes the sting with his tongue. She loves his mouth, his wicked, wonderful mouth, and she’s close to losing her damn mind when he runs a finger up her folds, circling the swollen bud at the top. She arches into his touch, searching, seeking, _needing_ more- “Benji,” she whines, “please-”

“Please, what,” he’s so lightly, so very lightly circling her clit with two fingers, it’s _maddening_.

“Please, sir,” the words come naturally, and Benji rewards her by flicking his tongue against her clit, and she makes a gasping, choking sound as her body jerks into the touch. His arm comes to lay across her abdomen, a bar keeping her from squirming the way she wants to. His eyes are so dark as he wraps his plush lips around her swollen bud and gently sucks. Gwen keens with the pleasure, her elbows giving out, her back hitting the table with a soft _thud_ as her eyes flutter shut. He moans against her, dragging her body closer to him, pulling one leg over his shoulder to give him better access.

Her back’s arched, and the sounds she’s making are so lewd she’d turn brick red if she was paying attention, but right now, she doesn’t care - all her focus is on the way his mouth is licking and stroking her, the way his tongue is dipping into her entrance and dragging up her slit, stroking her with tight,quick circles, then slow, light ones. Her breath comes out in rapid, short pants, soft groans and mewls filling the air as his fingers - broad, thick, perfect in every way - stretch her out, curling against her walls as he pumps them in and out. Gwen tangles her fingers in his hair, her grip hard and undoubtedly pulling at his roots, but she’s so delirious with pleasure she isn’t aware of it.

“You close, baby?” he all but purrs, and the sound of his voice has her clenching around his fingers. 

Gwen looks at him, half dazed, face flushed pink, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead. “Mhmm,” she manages to get out, whining as he pulls his fingers out. She sits up as he starts to unbuckle his jeans, tugging on his wrist to bring his hand to her lips, sucking his still-slick digits into her mouth, cheeks hollowing with the motion. 

Benji swallows, his eyes widening, a haze of lust in his already-dark eyes. “ _Fuck_ .” She pulls them out with an audible _pop_ sound, presses a kiss to the knuckles. He hurriedly - inelegantly - yanks down his jeans to his knees, slides his hands beneath her thighs to tilt her hips up, and strokes his cock along her slick folds. “Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he whispers again before pressing into her, the two of them groaning when he finally bottoms out. He pulls out, pushes back in, setting up a rhythm that’s slow, teasing, 

“ _Benji,”_ she moans, clenching around him, feeling something thick and luscious run through her nerves, gradually - but inexorably - building in intensity. She watches him through half-lidded eyes, at the way his mouth’s slightly parted, the sounds - soft, rushed grunts - pouring out. He’s so handsome, his broad shoulders making her feel safe, protected, _cherished_ , and she reaches up to grip onto them. 

His gaze meets hers. “You feel so good, baby,” he praises, making her shiver. “So fucking tight,” he groans, voice low and raspy and she moans, unable to help clenching around him again. He knows what he does to her, and he croons more compliments into her ear as he fucker her harder, and faster, telling her what a good girl she is, how she takes him so well, how he can’t wait to feel her come on his dick.

“Come on,” he’s breathless, but the command reaches through. “Come for me.” He cups her face between his hands and kisses her, thrusting into her with scooping strokes that let him grind against her clit, and she can’t help but obey, shuddering as an electric pulse of liquid pleasure floods into her, short-circuiting her brain and causing her to cry out into his mouth. He fucks her through it, his hips snapping against hers, and she’s still shivering from her climax as he fills her, her name a gasped moan on his lips.

Gwen presses her face against his chest as she calms down, the rapid staccato of his heart a soothing sound as she works to regain her breath. Benji stays buried within her until he softens, at which he pulls away from her, making his way to the kitchen. She can feel his spend dripping out, coating her thighs and sliding down to drip onto the table.

“I’m not sure I can walk,” she huffs out a laugh, flushing at how fucked out her voice sounds.

He returns with a wad of damp paper towels, and helps her clean up. “I guess it’s a good thing you have me to carry you,” he winks, lifting her bridal-style into his arms. 

Gwen laughs, kisses the crook of his neck. “I really am.”


End file.
